she wanted to prove she could watch an Aussie Rules game without breaking down. And she would as long as she didn’t think of the crowded Adelaide oval and being crushed against a warm, muscular body in the crowd.
‘So, did you keep that appointment with your boss, Lauren? Has he made an offer you can’t refuse to get you to stay?’ Jenny leant forward and opened the top box, the aroma evoking memories of the last time she’d been in Matt’s office.
‘We talked. He wants me to consider freelancing for him whenever he gets a job he thinks worthy of my talents. His expression. Soft soap and flattery. I think he’s hoping I’ll relent and come back full time after I’ve had a break.’
‘Could happen.’
‘I doubt it but the idea of a real challenge now and again is tempting.’
The last one had been and look how that ended. No chance of a repeat. She’d fallen in love and lost her heart to Matt Dalton, irretrievable and never to be reclaimed. The pain would subside and become a dull ache she’d learn to live with.
* * *
Matt needed someone to confess to, someone who’d listen, tell him what a drongo he’d been, and offer to help find her. The one person who’d shared all his dreams and aspirations, almost every failure and heartbreak. As soon as he’d finished essential work, he took a taxi to Alan’s city apartment, picking up Chinese food on the way.
The food was hot and spicy, and the cold beer from the fridge slid smoothly down his throat giving him courage to begin. He lounged back, crossing his ankles.
‘Lauren was my balcony girl.’
Alan stopped chewing and stared.
‘You’re kidding? I don’t remember seeing her that night and she’d have been noticeable even then. You definitely never forgot her.’
‘No, she was always there, even when I was contemplating marriage to someone else. I didn’t realise who she was until I kissed her again.’
He almost lost it as the memory seared his brain. Closed his eyes, picturing hazel eyes full of passion, and a smile that always sent his pulse soaring.
‘I’m an idiot, Alan. A blind, insensitive idiot who didn’t have the nous to see the truth in front of me or the guts to claim the sweetest prize any man was ever offered.’
His cousin nodded. ‘I agree. Now you tell me what happened and we’ll work out how you find her, grovel like a lovesick fool—which you’ll happily be—and win her back.’
Matt spilled his guts, taking all the blame. He’d cursed himself for not asking more about her life, her suburb, or the names of her friends. She wasn’t in the phone directory and he hadn’t been able to locate her on social media. Her employer had offered to forward any mail he sent, after justifiably refusing to divulge personal information. Apologetic words on paper could never convey his guilt and remorse. He needed to see her, hold her and beg for forgiveness.
‘My last hope is to contact one of her brothers but they’d probably ask why and refuse if I tell the truth. All I know is she lives on the same floor as her friends, in a suburban block of units in Sydney. I didn’t bother to ask her anything—’
He jerked upright, beer spraying onto his jeans and the floor.
‘The form.’ He sprang to his feet, dumping the can on the table. ‘Come on—you drive.’
‘What form? Where?
Matt was already halfway to the door.
‘The personnel form I filed without bothering to read it. Her name and address, contact number in case of an emergency, et cetera.’
Ten minutes later Matt perched on her desk and read the form out loud.
‘“Lauren Juliet Taylor”, her address and mobile phone number. And—’ the rush of joyful adrenaline almost tipped him off the desk ‘—“Peter Williams”, her friend in the apartment opposite hers.’ He punched the air in triumph. ‘I’ve got where she lives. I’ve got her friend’s number. And with his help, I’ve got a plan.’
* * *
Lauren fumbled in her shoulder bag for her keys as she took the last few steps to the third floor. Her first private lesson had been a success and her next three Tuesday afternoons were taken.
If even half her future clients were as good as feisty seventy-two-year-old Mary—or seventy-two years young as she’d claimed—her new occupation would be a pleasure. She’d listened intently, made copious notes in a neat legible hand, and was willing to give anything a go. She claimed making mistakes was part of living.
If that was the case, Lauren was certainly alive, so why did she feel numb inside? There was...
A large vase containing an incredible arrangement of orchids on the landing outside her door. Her foot caught on the last stair. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t form a coherent thought.
Orchids: deep reds, yellow with leopard spots, and lilac ones of every shade imaginable. She stumbled forward and fell onto her knees, her trembling fingers reaching out to touch the soft petals, confirm they weren’t her imagination.
Tears flooded her eyes. Her heart hammered into life, sending her blood racing to regenerate every pulse point. Orchids. Matt. Linked together in her mind for ever.
‘Lauren?’
Broken, rasping voice. Trembling arms clasped her in a strong embrace. Warm lips pressed to her forehead. Disbelief scrambled her brain, and hope fluttered in her stomach.
‘Don’t cry, my love. Please, don’t cry.’
My love. Matt’s voice saying words she wouldn’t dare to dream. Matt kneeling beside her, his body warm and solid, and his heart thudding under her hand. Matt’s fingers lovingly stroking her cheek, and tilting her chin.
She barely had time to register dark shadows under his compassionate blue eyes before he kissed her. Not with the smooth arrogance of the youth, or the competent skill of the sophisticated man. Hesitant, unsure of her response.
She wanted the passionate lover who’d taken her to the moon and beyond, and refused to settle for less. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she tangled her fingers in his hair, binding him to her. She teased him with the tip of her tongue and nipped his lip with her teeth.
In an instant he crushed her against him, chased her tongue back inside with his, stroking and tangling, claiming his rights as her man. His hands caressed her, fuelling fires she’d believed extinguished. His breathing was as ragged as her own.
Voices echoed up the stairwell and he lifted his head, chest heaving, throat convulsing and eyes gleaming.
‘Inside?’ Rough and barely audible.
Unable to speak, she nodded, and looked round for the keys she’d dropped. Matt picked them up and helped her to her feet. Her fingers trembled too much to take them, and her heart flipped at his unsteady attempts to unlock the door.
He followed her in, stopped just inside gazing wide-eyed
